


move like cagey tigers

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kitty Ears, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The thing is, Louis does look really cute with the ears on. It probably has something to do with his whole outfit, the polka-dot braces and rolled-up shirt sleeves. Even so, Harry doesn't think it should be </i>quite<i> as attractive as it is.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	move like cagey tigers

**Author's Note:**

> [BECAUSE OF REASONS.](http://i.imgur.com/oysgk.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> Also this just sort of turned into an excuse to write bottom!Louis, if I'm honest. There is very little plot here, if any. The title is from 'The Love Cats' by The Cure. *sigh*

He doesn't even realise he's still holding onto the kitty ears until they're all in the taxi after the concert, when Niall nudges him and says, "What've you got those for?"

"Oh," says Harry, feeling oddly sheepish. "I dunno. Fan threw them."

"Fans throw their knickers at us too, Hazza," Louis speaks up, giving Harry a look. "You don't nick off with those, do you?"

" _No_ ," says Harry, perhaps a little too defensively. "I just thought they were cute."

Louis flutters his eyelashes ridiculously. "On me?" he asks.

"Just in general."

"But you put them on me," persists Louis.

Liam sighs, sensing the tension. "Leave it, Louis. If Harry likes cat ears, let him be."

"I don't _like_ cat ears," argues Harry. "Except on cats, where they belong."

Louis reaches across and snatches the ears out of Harry's lap, slipping them on. "Meow," he says, somewhat obnoxiously, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. "How about now?"

Harry glares at him. The thing is, Louis does look really cute with the ears on. It probably has something to do with his whole outfit, the polka-dot braces and rolled-up shirt sleeves. Even so, Harry doesn't think it should be _quite_ as attractive as it is.

"You look ridiculous, Lou," he says, shaking his head, but he can't help smiling.

"You love it," says Louis self-assuredly, keeping the ears on and adding another meow. Harry just rolls his eyes, but he can't really look away until they get back to the hotel.

Or, even when they get back to the hotel, actually, because Louis refuses to take them off. Usually he can't wait to get into some sweatpants after shows, but tonight all he does is kick off his shoes and then spread himself out on the bed, still fully-clothed and with the stupid ears on. Harry undresses, studiously ignoring him. In the mirror, though, he can see that Louis's watching him intently, and when Harry undoes his bow tie Louis shuffles over and snatches it up.

"Put it on me?"

"Why?" asks Harry, frowning.

"C'mon. You can't resist the puppy-dog eyes," Louis insists.

"Thought you were s'posed to be a cat," Harry grumbles.

"Just do it," Louis says, clearly losing patience, and Harry shrugs and does, fingers brushing over Louis's Adam's apple as he secures the tie. It's really hard to concentrate with Louis so close and still wearing those ears; he really does look _stupidly_ cute and it's distracting. The bow tie, as it turns out, doesn't help at _all_.

"You look like a cartoon kitten," says Harry in a small voice, because it's kind of true.

Louis bursts out laughing. " _What?_ "

He looks at himself in the mirror, inspecting his reflection. "Huh. I see what you mean. Like from a Disney movie or something." He glances back at Harry again. "You like it?"

Harry actually feels himself _blush_ , which is just ridiculous. "What? I dunno."

"You _like_ it," Louis decides, poking him in the ribs. "Want me to be your kitten, Hazza? Wanna pet me?"

"You're being—" Harry snaps, but then cuts himself off abruptly because Louis's words register and he realises that yeah, actually, he really kind of _would_ like to pet him.

Louis's perched at the end of the bed while Harry's still standing up, and Louis leans out a little, nudging his head up against Harry's chest. It's such an affectionate gesture—Harry focuses on that instead of the cat-like nature of it—and he can't help but reach out and stroke Louis's head, fingers brushing over the band that holds the ears. Louis makes a pleased little purring sound and nuzzles against him.

"You're being an idiot," Harry says, but it comes out kind of fond and husky this time. It's different, having Louis act like this, all sweet and cuddly and calm. Harry's usually the one who likes having his hair played with, but right now Louis's loving it, nuzzling up against him and wriggling a little when Harry scratches gently behind the fake ears with the pads of his fingertips. It's really nice, actually, to have him going all relaxed like this; not buzzing madly with energy for once. And the little soft noises he's making are pretty nice too, in a way they probably shouldn't be considering the context.

Because, like. He's kind of getting hard. It's not the ears, he tells himself, it's so not the ears, it's just the way Louis is kind of squirming against him and his hair is so soft and he's making the kinds of noises he makes when Harry jerks him off first thing in the morning, when he's all sleepy and quiet and cute.

Louis reaches up to steady himself with one hand on Harry's hip, and Harry jerks away in an instant, paranoid. Louis draws back, eyebrow hitching curiously, but says nothing for a moment and then snuggles back in against Harry again. For a second Harry thinks he's gotten away with it but then Louis's hand darts out again at lightning-speed, palming him through his trousers and feeling the slight bulge there.

"Weirdo," says Louis softly, and a little triumphantly, into Harry's half-unbuttoned shirt. "You like this."

"I don't think I'm the only one," Harry says, because as soon as his fingers snake into Louis's hair again, he goes all pliant under Harry's hand. 

"Ears?" says Louis hopefully, and Harry laughs.

"You can't even feel it," he says, stroking his fingers over the fuzzy ears and feeling like an idiot for it, but—well, it's kind of nice; they're all velvety-soft against his fingers and Louis twists his head a little like it feels good. Harry's getting harder, filling up fast from it. From _this_.

"I can feel something else," says Louis cheekily, his fingers smoothing over Harry's crotch.

And, well, fine. So maybe this is okay. Louis isn't just winding him up anymore, trying to embarrass him, because he's embarrassing _himself_ now in the process and he's not usually willing to do that unless he's getting something out of it. And the thing is, Louis is ridiculously accepting of this sort of thing. Harry sometimes wonders if there's _anything_ he wouldn't do. He assumes Louis must have some sort of line, but so far, they haven't found it. Sometimes he wants to suggest something _seriously_ filthy or bizarre just to see if Louis would go along with it. Harry's never quite sure if Louis's just indulging him, or he really gets off on pretty much anything.

"'m not being mean," says Louis, pouting a little into Harry's chest. "I don't care if you like them in _that_ way. We could even do something about it if you want."

"Like what?" Harry says, still stroking him absent-mindedly while Louis's fingers are working with more purpose now, feeling out the shape of his cock in his trousers and rubbing steadily over it. 

Louis draws back then, and unbuttons Harry's shirt the rest of the way, sliding it off his shoulders. "I could suck you off like this," he suggests, voice gone all low. "Or...you could fuck me."

Harry swallows, overcome with the mental images. "Both," he says tightly. "Both is good."

Louis grins, a little triumphantly Harry thinks, and makes quick work of getting Harry's trousers and pants down around his ankles. Harry's cock springs out, fully hard now from Louis's promises, and Louis is eager, pushing Harry back so he can drop to his knees onto the floor in front of him. He's thirsty for it, mouth already so wet as he sinks down over Harry's length, takes him in deep with little hesitation. Harry grabs at nothing for a moment, brain going blank as he feels Louis's lips tight around him and the gorgeous slippery warmth and friction. And then Louis makes a little pleased sound in the back of his throat and Harry grabs for his head helplessly, fingers finding the kitty ears right away.

He's struck by a sudden urge to pull on them, to tuck his fingers into the soft fur and just _yank_ , but he knows the headband would come right off, so instead he clamps his hand down over Louis's head, feeling the press of the band against his palm and letting his thumb crumple one of the ears a little. It still feels pretty good, but not as good as Louis's fucking _mouth_ , all stretched wide around his cock and taking him in, wet warmth that Harry pushes into over and over, knowing Louis can handle it. Sometimes when they do this, Louis will even clasp his hands behind his back and just let Harry use him, not making any attempts at keeping control—but whenever he does that Harry always comes ridiculously fast, not able to hold back when he looks down at Louis and sees him just taking it, letting the spit run down his chin, his whole body wracked with Harry's thrusts. 

Right now Louis is clutching at his hips, sort of kneading at them with his fingertips, thumbs pressing against bone. If Harry starts to get a little wild, he'll feel a sudden sharp press of fingernail into his skin, a warning to hold off, that he can't come now because Louis wants this energy from him when they're fucking, wants Harry to pound his _arse_ like this, not just his mouth. The thought makes Harry nearly lose it and his hand slips off Louis's head reluctantly, going down to one of the bands of Louis's braces on his shoulder instead and toying with it, and then under his chin to the bow tie. He doesn't want Louis to take that off, he decides, wants him to keep it and the shirt on as well as the cat ears. He'd like him to keep the braces on too, but that never works, and it's a constant annoyance because Harry has all sorts of fantasies about using the braces as leverage when he's fucking him that just aren't practical at all.

Louis is touching himself now, one hand dropping from Harry's hip to go between his legs and fumble with his fly so he can get his hand inside and stroke at his cock. And usually that's really fucking hot, the way he can't quite control himself sometimes, so turned on by the feel of Harry in his mouth that he has to give himself some relief. But right now, it pisses Harry off; he wants this to be about _him_. He jerks back, pulling wetly out of Louis's mouth and angles his hips away. 

"Harryyy," Louis whines. "I was enjoying that." 

He leans back in towards him, lips gleaming and reddened, and it's all Harry can do not to just shove right back in. "Gonna fuck you," he decides, heart rate quickening a little just from the words, the anticipation.

"Fuck. Yes. Please." Louis's head darts forward, teeth nipping at the skin of Harry's stomach, gentle but sudden, and Harry jolts. "That didn't hurt," says Louis, grinning wickedly. "Got tiny kitten teeth, me."

Harry shakes his head and smoothes a hand over Louis's hair, feeling where it's starting to go damp at the roots with sweat. He flicks one of the furry ears with his finger and Louis makes a little noise and gets up, back onto the bed, sprawling out like—well, a lot like a cat, actually, but Harry tries not to think about that. 

"Might need to take your trousers off, Lou," Harry reminds him, and Louis moans frustratedly, laughing as he heaves himself back up and slips his braces down off his shoulders, struggling out of his trousers and boxers. Harry doesn't even _need_ to tell him to keep the shirt and tie on because he clearly can't be bothered removing anything besides what's absolutely necessary. 

"You're so impatient," Harry teases in a drawling voice, smirking as he finishes undressing himself.

"Yeah, well, you're turned on by cat ears, so," Louis quips, finally tugging the tangle of clothes from his feet and then shuffling over to Harry on his knees to pull him down onto the bed. Harry stumbles, falls clumsily on top of Louis who wraps his legs around him instantly, shameless.

"Could've got lube while you were up," Harry points out, and Louis groans again.

"You get it," he says, already starting to rock his hips up a little against Harry so that their erections press and rub together.

"I'm kind of trapped," Harry chuckles, gesturing to the way Louis's legs are clamped right around him.

"Ughhhh," is Louis's response to that, and he flings an arm out, reaching blindly for the bedside table and, impressively, managing to get the drawer open without having to move too much. He fumbles around some more and Harry just watches, amused.

It's like this a lot—Louis will tease him mercilessly, sometimes _cruelly_ , purely because he thinks there's a chance it might end in sex. And probably about half the time he's actually _wrong_ , because he'll hit a nerve or cross a line and it'll end in a little spat instead. But he'll always keep trying because sometimes he's right; sometimes the thing he chooses to wind Harry up about is _just the right thing_ and it'll lead to this. Harry's never really understood why Louis has to make a game of it, play at having all the power until the second Harry gives in, because then it's just like this, Louis sprawled out on the bed beneath him and searching frantically for lube because he wants Harry inside him so badly.

The way he's stretching is making the cat ears catch on the pillows and come off, and Harry reaches out to neaten them up again. As soon as he touches them Louis squirms beneath him a little more, his cock a hot hard line sticking against Harry's stomach. Harry wonders if all the teasing was just an elaborate attempt at distracting him from the fact that _Louis's_ the one who was into the ears in the first place, but it's always so hard to tell who really started it. Louis will swear down that it's Harry, every time, even though he's always the one who pushes it, says _you like this, don't you?_ if Harry's holding back.

"Got it," says Louis suddenly, his hand snapping back out of the drawer and not bothering to close it as he settles back down against the pillows again happily. "How've we got so much crap in there? We've only been here a few days."

Harry shrugs, not really listening as he watches Louis uncap the little bottle and slick up his fingers. "Oh, I see," he says, a little put-out. "Just gonna do everything yourself tonight?"

Louis freezes, looking guilty. "You always go so _slow_."

"All right," Harry says, frowning at him, "so show me how you like it."

Because, okay, he really does want to be in control here, but the thought of Louis lying underneath him and fingering himself is—not exactly something he's going to object to. Louis bites his lip and wriggles about a bit, legs falling from Harry's hips but staying bent and open, and Harry shifts so that there's a little more space between them, so Louis can get at himself. At first he just watches Louis's face, because he's usually too busy focusing a little south of that when he's the one doing this, and it's good to watch the way Louis's teeth sink harder into his lip and his breathing goes all purposeful and slow like he's trying to relax. His eyes are half-shut at first but then his gaze slides up to Harry and he smiles, lazy, and there's some kind of relief on his face like this is what he needed; he just needed something inside him and now he can relax, doesn't have to nag and tease anymore.

Harry looks down between them and sees the way Louis's hand is shaped, the heel of it pressed to his balls as his fingers disappear down beneath, and then, yeah, okay, just looking at Louis's face isn't really good enough anymore. Harry pulls off, sitting up and settling between Louis's legs and watching as Louis's finger starts to work in and out of himself. He's really not going slow at all.

Harry reaches out, fingers brushing over Louis's and slipping lower, and Louis starts to draw his out, assuming Harry wants to take over, but—"No," says Harry, a little sharply, "keep—yeah—"

He pushes his own finger alongside Louis's, feeling how tight he is, red-hot around him. His mouth is dry and he swallows. "Yeah," says Louis, voice breathy, "yeah, come on."

Harry tries to match Louis's pace but it's clumsy, their fingers sliding alongside each other. Louis adds another of his own like Harry isn't doing enough, and Harry makes a sound in his throat, angry at that, using his other hand to pull Louis's away, and Louis makes a little hurt noise at the loss until Harry shoves in four fingers together, all curled against each other in the tight heat, and this time Louis's arms flail out and he grabs fistfuls of the duvet, head rolling back. Harry smirks at him, thrusting his fingers fast and deep, and it's probably not slick enough, a little too rough, but Louis is writhing against the sheets in bliss, his cock flushed dark and almost bouncing against the crisp white of his shirt with each hard push of Harry's fingers.

He keeps chanting, "Yeah, yeah," like Harry needs encouragement, and Harry has to take his own cock back in his hand, squeezing it but not able to do much else as he concentrates on fucking Louis with his fingers.

"I'm—I'm ready," Louis pants out before long, lifting his head up a little to look down at Harry with needy eyes. "I'm ready, right? Come on—"

Harry had almost forgotten about the kitty ears entirely, but looking at Louis now he realises they're missing, fallen off with all his writhing. "Cat ears came off," he says disapprovingly, too far into this now to pretend like he isn't.

Louis sighs in frustration but reaches up behind his head blindly to fumble for the headband, and shoves it back on over his mussed-up hair, and—god, Harry still has no clue _why_ , but he looks so good like that. Even better now that he's all dishevelled, his starch white shirt beginning to go transparent with sweat and the bow tie crooked, and of course his legs spread wide open and four of Harry's fingers inside him to the knuckles, twisting and pressing and making him squirm desperately.

"Weirdo," murmurs Louis as he straightens the ears out, but Harry leans over him and cranes his neck in order to brush his lips against the soft fur of the ears and Louis's breath hitches, and Harry's not so sure it's just due to the change of angle of his fingers.

"Whore," Harry retorts, but it's said gently, fondly, against Louis's cheekbone now as he withdraws his fingers and reaches for the lube.

"Yesss," Louis sighs, and Harry can't honestly tell if that's in response to what he just said, or because Louis's realised that he's going to get fucked now. Maybe that doesn't exactly matter.

Harry straightens back up up to reach down and stroke the lube along the length of his cock and smooth a little more over Louis's hole, and Louis is sort of twitching impatiently underneath him, apparently unable to keep still.

"Give me a second," Harry almost laughs, "don't want me to go in dry, do you?"

Louis just makes another frustrated sound which quickly turns into a sort of whine when Harry's still taking his time. "I swear to god, if you meow right now—" Harry says, but Louis is too het-up to tease at this point, his eyes gone glassy. Harry chuckles. "And you act like _I'm_ the one who couldn't wait to jump you."

"You couldn't," says Louis, but it's weak. This is pretty much the only time when Louis's unable to think up decent comebacks, and Harry likes that, likes having that power over him because it's so rare in the rest of their lives.

Satisfied, he tosses the bottle aside and Louis moans gratefully even though Harry's not even in yet. Harry steadies himself, one hand spreading out over Louis's stomach and feeling his skin hot through his shirt, and the other grasping his cock with sticky fingers as he guides it into Louis, slowly breaching his hole and making Louis scrabble at the sheets. 

"Good?" Harry breathes, a little smugly, but Louis can't answer, and when Harry looks up he's left speechless too, taking in Louis's crumpled rucked-up shirt and the bow tie coming loose, and the flushed, dazed look of his face, and the stupid _cat ears_ , fuzzy and black and deceptively innocent perched on the top of his head.

His legs are spread carelessly apart, loosely hooked around Harry's thighs and giving Harry plenty of control. Harry sinks in deeper, and Louis is nodding in a sort of urgent way, hair getting rapidly more spiked-up at the back of his head as he does so. As soon as Harry's fully-sheathed, Louis lets out a long sharp breath through his teeth, a real hiss, and Harry gives himself a second to adjust to the feeling of Louis all around him.

"So good, Lou," he mumbles out, stroking at Louis's hip now, pushing up the shirt some more to get to his skin and churning his hips a little, pressing into the slick close heat. 

Louis sort of whimpers, "Move," at him, pleading and commanding and just _hungry_ all at the same time. He's clenching around Harry, making himself even tighter, and Harry groans as he pulls out and pushes back in, quicker than he might usually, not really easing Louis into it. But Louis just moans, and Harry hooks his hands under Louis's knees to have something to hold onto as he begins to fuck him, gliding in and out in smooth easy strokes now, picking up speed until Louis can barely _stop_ moaning, dissolving into a constant stream of sound that almost seems involuntary. Harry's thumbs press into the soft skin of Louis's thighs and his hips piston and Louis is beginning to rock against him, pink-cheeked and reaching for his cock now where it's bumping up against his stomach, leaking wet through his shirt.

Harry takes it for himself instead, batting Louis's hand away and wrapping his own around Louis's shaft, tight, fingers still tacky with lube as he strokes up and down, feeling the gentle throb of him in his fist. Louis can barely cope with this, still drawing up handfuls of the sheets and pulling at them, the bedsprings beginning to creak with the force of Harry's thrusts and the way Louis is hitching his hips up to meet every one even as it seems like an incredible effort for him to do _anything_ right now besides just lay back and take it. 

Harry shifts slightly, his knees beginning to ache a little, and the smallest change of angle makes Louis cry out suddenly, his whole body going drawn and tight and his back arching high, as though he's being pulled up from the middle—he splutters wordlessly and comes hard, violent, clenching almost painfully tight around Harry's cock in pulses as he shoots stripes of come up to his chest and then dribbles the rest over Harry's fist.

"F—uck," Harry manages, staring down at him. There's a splatter of come all the way up on the shiny black fabric of the bow tie and the shirt is ruined with it, and the kitty ears are crooked, and Louis is trying to catch his breath in sort of wheezing sobs like he was caught off guard. Harry has gone still, gazing at him, hand loosely curled around Louis's softening cock, and Louis starts shaking his head, hands gesturing weakly.

"Keep—keep—don't stop," he forces out, and Harry doesn't need to be told twice, picks right back up, driving back in deep and then pounding right into him and it's still the same angle that made Louis lose it—Louis turns his face into the pillow and screws his eyes shut, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, and he looks _wrecked_. Harry almost wonders if he could make him come again, if he kept going like this long enough, but he can't manage it, not with the slick heat and friction surrounding him and the _sight_ of Louis like that, totally destroyed, all because of him.

He holds onto Louis's waist now with sticky hands, Louis's legs gone slack around his hips, and rides himself closer, hips bucking and snapping until he's bursting with it, fingers scrunching into Louis's shirt as he goes tense and comes deep, pleasure barrelling down on his body and draining him. 

It takes him a long moment to ease off, room spinning gently around him and his vision gone starry, but then he feels Louis stroking at him, arm stretched out so his fingers can pet at Harry's chest. Harry comes back to earth, slipping down beside him on the bed and tangling their legs together.

He toys with the ears again, fingers lazy, and Louis chuckles at him, purring again. "Ugh," groans Harry, and Louis laughs, snuggling into him all blissed-out and satisfied.

"Can't wear them to sleep, Lou," Harry says, regretfully plucking the headband off Louis's head and tossing it across to the bedside table.

"I'll wear them down to breakfast," Louis replies, through a yawn.

Harry can't tell if he's bluffing, but it doesn't actually seem likely. Louis is willing to do pretty much anything. He wonders absently if he'd let him draw whiskers on him. "Really?" he says, grinning and trying not to let his voice sound too hopeful.

"Sure," says Louis with a one-shouldered shrug. "If you fuck me like that again after."

Harry laughs, pressing closer, lips to Louis's ear as he murmurs, "Slut."

"Cat-fancier," Louis shoots back with a smile.


End file.
